


I hope that you

by WrongSeason



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV)
Genre: And angst, F/F, Implied Relationships, Past Relationships, This Is Sad, i don’t know what happened but I hurt myself, prepare for feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 10:02:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14590602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrongSeason/pseuds/WrongSeason
Summary: “What happened, Es?”“You know what happened.”~ Or, Jacquelyn and Esmé have history. Quite a one at that. ~





	I hope that you

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses for this. Not a one. 
> 
> Chapter title is “Burn” from Hamilton.

The world is quiet here. 

Far quieter than Jacquelyn ever remembers it being. She can feel the ash flakes settling on her cheeks, but makes no effort to brush them off. 

“Why?”

Esmé has her back to Jacquelyn, and doesn’t bother turning around. 

“Because I can.”

Jacquelyn takes the few steps forward, and moves in front of the blonde. She raises her hand, and cups Esmé’s cheek, watching as she blinks softly at the contact. Once so familiar, now feeling so foreign. 

“What happened, Es?” 

Esmé pulls back, slowly enough to let Jacquelyn know she’s not upset at the contact. But still, quick enough to hurt. 

“You know what happened.” Her voice is clipped, and it makes Jacquelyn wince. 

“There was no need for this. For any of this,” she sweeps her hand to the ruins of the building behind her. There’s book covers littered there, cooking utensils, the ceramic pots that once held plants. 

Remnants of her life. Memories in dust. 

“What would you have done if I were in there?” She’s trying to hold back the tears, but feels the heat roll down her cheeks before she can stop it. 

Esmé purposely avoids her gaze, instead staring at the floor. 

“I knew you weren’t.”

Her hand is on Esmé’s cheek again, forcing her to look back up. 

“But I could have been. You could have truly lost me.”

The breath that catches in the back of her throat takes her by surprise. Jacquelyn is right, of course. It always frustrated her that the secretary had such a knack for always knowing what to say. What to say to get that emotion out of her. It had always been buried so deep, she could have sworn she didn’t have it. 

“I know I’ve already lost you.”

She almost doesn’t recognise her own voice. Never one to be shy, her voice had been her most powerful weapon. Now it’s her downfall, betraying how she really feels. 

“Then come back to me. Back to us.” 

Both hands are there now, and Jacquelyn has leaned far enough forward to rest their foreheads together. Esmé can feel the wetness from Jacquelyn’s cheeks on her own. At least she hopes they’re Jacquelyn’s tears. 

“You know that I can’t do that, Jacq.” 

The nickname comes with an ease she’d long since forgotten about, and it makes her stomach churn. 

“It’s not too late,” she knows she sounds desperate but it’s all she has left.

Esmé takes the step back, breaking all contact. 

“It is.” 

And just like that, Jacquelyn re-lives their history. Re-lives that same stone cold tone and how the last time it said “we’re done.” She didn’t want to believe it then, and she doesn’t now.

“Jacquelyn?” It’s Olivia’s voice that brings her back to the present, and she looks over to where the redhead is standing in the corner of what used to be her kitchen. 

She must look too long, glad of the warm face, but heartbroken to see the worry on it, for when she looks back, Esmé is already walking away. 

She can’t help but wonder whether Esmé lost her, or did she lose Esmé.

She steps over the broken glass of her windows, and lets Olivia wrap her up. 

Olivia is warmth, and kindness, and good. She is what Jacquelyn needs right now, and also what she wants. 

But she can’t stop wanting Esmé too. 

And so she cries, for what she has and has not, letting Olivia soothe the pain away. 

If only that pain hadn’t turned into a dull ache. Ever persistent about the things that could have been. 

The world is quiet here

Far quieter than she ever remembers it being.


End file.
